"It is the man, your lordship."
"Pennington, read me the description of Vavasour given in our proclamation."
When the clerk had done so, the earl turned on Boswell.
"How comes it that you, who were in my son's service, and knew this man, did not inform Pennington of the errors in this document? There is not a word here of scars on the face or marking on the breast. What is the meaning of this? Subornation?"
"No, my lord. I did not know of the scars; or if I did, I had forgotten them."
It was amazing to me that the ready, crafty villain should bungle and blunder so.
"Forgotten your own handiwork?" asked the earl, in the silkiest tone.
Boswell was so confounded by the question that he had nothing to say. Before he could recover himself, the earl cried—
"Into the rack with him."
In little more than the twinkling of an eye, the men had pounced on him, stripped him to his shirt, and tied his feet and hands. It made one shudder to think what long practice had made them so dexterous at the work. They plied their levers, until their victim was stretched, and one heard wrists and ankle-joints crack sickeningly.